Well

If you know me at all, you probably know that I love to sing. I don’t have any world-changing talent in the matter, but I am loud, exuberant, and mostly on-key. In the car, cleaning the house, folding laundry, rocking my children to sleep – I find endless joy in singing whatever song that comes to mind.

10 years ago, if you had asked me, “What is your favorite song?”, I would have thought for a brief moment, then probably answered (in 20-something-year-old-chipper-Kelsey-tones):

“ I have a few, but probably ‘It is Well’!”

The melancholy chords, the call/response chorus, swelling music crescendoing into a victorious final verse… all the feels. I loved that song deeply, and always felt stirring in my souls whenever it was played for an offertory or sung by our small congregation.

The song continued to be my favorite as I navigated deep grief in my family, a stress-fraught college career, a new job that often took me far out of any semblance of comfort or competency… No matter my season, I still maintained that it was one of the superior hymns of our time. And heartily sang along at every opportunity.

And then came… Sam.

Really, all of the blessed year of our Lord, 2018, was my undoing. But Sam was the final straw that broke my voice. Quite literally, I’m afraid. I suddenly found myself silent, unable to muster up the energy for spur-of-the-moment worship sessions. And congregational music? What a mess. I tried to sing on Sundays, but inevitably dissolved into tears. It almost became a Pavlovian response: I couldn’t even verbalize why I was crying. I just was. I learned to bring tissues, stop singing soon enough, and not even attempt certain triggering songs.

Songs especially like, “It is Well”.

It felt like false positivity, when I felt so truly *unwell* in my spirit. I remember ranting to my husband and close friends about it. “Why do we have to pretend things are good all the time? Why do we just hush up the brokenness and sin of this world with quick pasted smile and “it is well” written on a bookmark??” It was full blown diatribe, complete with analogies and hand gestures, as my old favorite became my new poster child for “toxic positivity”.

Time heals all wounds, they say, and sure enough, the years have come and gone, and my voice has slowly returned. I’m back to my songbird-ways, annoying and delighting my children in turns. We moved and joined a church with an old Southern style of music, and suddenly I was able to sing again with minimal water works. Things are looking up: in my world and in my spirit.

So today, as I was listening to an old playlist, and “It is Well” came on, instead of an immediate eye-roll and skip, I let it play through. Sure enough, the tears rolled with the chorus as I sat with my old grief and memories. But this time, God arrested me with a thought. As I really listened in that moment, I realized:

It is well with my soul.

And it has been for a really long time. In fact, from the moment I called Jesus “mine”.

Because, for the follower of Christ, “It is well with my soul” is not an emotional indicator, but rather a permanent state of being. Those who are redeemed, forgiven, and held by Him cannot, for even one moment in their finite lives, claim that their eternally-loved souls are not, in fact, “well”. Emotions will overwhelm, the muscle of faith waxes and wanes, circumstances drown us with sorrow or propel us to joyous heights. And yet, despite it all, the permanent state of our eternal being in Christ will always, and forever be, well. 

Was I hurting? Yes. Did I always “feel” well? Absolutely not. But the song which I had so mistaken as the moral signaling of an unflappably-positive outlook, became, in that moment, a simple anthem of truth. A reminder to myself of my identity, of my soul’s one true Savior and ultimate assurance.

When I feel low, when I feel abandoned, when I am sad, when I am angry… I am well.

When my friends hurt me, when my family shames me, when my enemies make me a laughing stock… I am well.

When the money doesn’t stretch, when the kids get sick, when the house is falling into a crater in the ground and I can’t find my keys… I am well.

And when laughter is the soundtrack of my days, love and friendship are my companions; when the song in my heart flows easily to my lips… I am still well.

And I always will be.

I’m going to put the lyrics at the bottom, and if you haven’t in a while, I encourage you- read them. Like, really read them. And meditate for a second on who you are in Christ & what He did to heal our broken souls.

To make us well.

May we praise Him today and always, with our hearts and with our lives. And maybe a good dose of singing while we’re at it.

With love,

Kelsey

When peace like a river attended my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul

It is well (it is well)
With my soul (with my soul)
It is well, it is well with my soul

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought
My sin, not in part but the whole
Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, oh, my soul

It is well (it is well)
With my soul (with my soul)
It is well, it is well with my soul

And Lord haste the day when my faith shall be sight
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll
The trumpet shall sound and the Lord shall descend
Even so, it is well with my soul

It is well (it is well)
With my soul (with my soul)
Oh it is well, it is well with my soul